


Clash

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Gen, Period-Typical Sexism, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: Enjolras may be Wrong about women, but Courfeyrac's reaction was neither fair, nor proportionate. Now he must make amends, and quickly, if he doesn't want to risk losing a friend.





	Clash

’With that attitude, you truly _will_ die alone!’

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Courfeyrac knew he had gone too far. The room went still, both Enjolras and Combeferre staring at him in shock. Finally Combeferre shot one last pointed glare at Courfeyrac, shook his head and turned to Enjolras.

’Look, unnecessary personal digs aside, Courfeyrac does have a point. You can’t just write off half of humankind as politically irrelevant, or even pretend women didn’t take part in the Revolution.’

For one more long moment Enjolras regarded Courfeyrac solemnly, then turned to address Combeferre.

Courfeyrac’s entire face was burning. No matter how displeased he was with Enjolras’ low opinion of women, he didn’t mean to hurt him, but, despite Enjolras’ apparent lack of reaction, he knew he must have. He also knew all too well that the only reason he wasn’t being skinned alive right now was because Combeferre had no idea just how deep his thoughtless jab must have cut Enjolras.

Not two days earlier the man, in a rare bout of openness, confessed to fearing just that. Dying alone.

He and Courfeyrac has spent the evening before discussing and evaluating a potential group of new allies, and by the time they reached a conclusion night has fallen and Enjolras was reluctant to let Courfeyrac go outside and face the dark streets.

This was how they ended up sharing a bed and how Courfeyrac was to bear witness to Enjolras’ quiet confession. It was incredibly rare for him to even acknowledge himself as a person with wants and needs outside the Revolution, let alone voice these feelings. It only ever happened when he has been alone with a single person for a long while, preferably sharing some sort of affectionate physical contact. Why, he would only admit to something as simple as hating being cold after sitting with Courfeyrac in silence for hours, with the latter’s arm over his shoulders.

As privileged as these tiny confessions made Courfeyrac feel, now their rarity and intimacy only added to his chagrin. He feared his careless words would put an end to them – or even to his friendship with Enjolras.

He slumped into his chair dejectedly, half-heartedly listening to Combeferre lecturing Enjolras on Madame Roland. He wasn’t even looking to add to the discussion, he was just looking for an opening to cut in, pull Enjolras to the side and apologise.

Unfortunately the topic was a pet peeve of Combeferre, so he went on for quite some time. He only stopped when Prouvaire called him over from the other side of the room, meaning to show him some new book.

When they were finally left alone, Courfeyrac quickly shifted over to Enjolras and latched onto his sleeve before he could get up and leave.

‘Listen, I’m sorry. I am so very sorry, I didn’t mean that.’

Enjolras didn’t turn to look at him, he merely shrugged his shoulders, his face an impassive mask.

‘We both know you are right.’

Courfeyrac wanted to bang his head against the table. He wished Enjolras would yell, would cry and cuss him out, or at least look and act as hurt as he must have been, he’d know how to deal with that. He’d let him let out the steam and then placate him, simple as that. Agreement wasn’t a reaction he expected.

‘No, no look… Women can be really quite lovely when you get to know them. I have some acquaintances… Perfectly charming and witty ladies, very well read and intelligent, I’m sure you’d enjoy their company. I could introduce you…’

Enjolras shot him a sideways glance.

‘I appreciate the offer but I’m afraid it would not help me. Look, yes, Combeferre has a point. I’m not quite convinced that we should start letting women officially join us but he has some good points. But none of what he has to say will ever make the prospect of marriage appealing. Or even bearable.’

Courfeyrac snickered and nudged him a little.

‘What does marriage have to do with anything?’

Enjolras didn’t dignify the remark with an answer. Courfeyrac was at his wits’ end. He was fruitlessly fishing for something to say when Joly’s laugh from across the room jolted him out of his thoughts. He was leaning into Bossuet, flushed and happy.

Not for the first time that day Courfeyrac wanted to plant his face into the table. Of course. He got this all wrong. He carefully scooted even closer to Enjolras and murmured into his ear.

‘You do realise… You know, if it’s love and companionship you want, women aren’t your only options.’

Enjolras let out a contemptuous little snort.

‘Prowlers in back alleys and bathhouses… I may not be wanting for money, but I’d rather spend it on printing expenses and cartridges.’

Courfeyrac looked at him in disbelief.

‘That sounded so cynical I’m surprised it didn’t come from Grantaire. Surely you can’t think that’s all there is to love between men. That all Achilles saw in Patroclus was a nice arse and nothing more.’

Enjolras hung his head.

‘No.’

For a long while he sat in silence. When he raised his head again, his eyes were a little brighter than usual.

‘No of course not. I have seen Joly and Bossuet and they... That is good. What they have. And my Achilles may as well be out there, somewhere, dreaming of his Patroclus. It’s only that I never met him and I haven’t the time to seek him out. Not when there’s so much to do.’

Courfeyrac squeezed his shoulder.

‘Come now’ he murmured ‘I’m not suggesting you dich our cause completely to go chase after your Achilles. All I’m saying is that you should keep an eye out for him, should he cross your path.’

Enjolras reached up and covered his hand with his own. For a split second Courfeyrac contemplated telling him about Grantaire’s overt, and frankly obnoxious adoration of him, but quickly decided against it. On one hand, he had a pair of functioning eyes and had seen the way Enjolras looked at Feuilly, on the other hand, he thought, it would be better for everyone involved if Grantaire somehow developed some semblance of self-worth before he could even begin to tackle the human-shaped lump of loneliness that was Enjolras.

He shook his head and let his hand drop. For now, all he could do was hope for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> ...And if the 'And then they died' ending doesn't sit well with you, may I interest you in my London Fog series?


End file.
